


Hypnotic

by corruptedkid



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Death spells - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Supernatural Elements, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 12:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12387960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedkid/pseuds/corruptedkid
Summary: It's one of those nights.





	Hypnotic

**Author's Note:**

> i've been listening to death spells on endless loop these past few days. my brain took the vibes, ran with them, and made this.

It’s one of those nights.

Gerard knows it as soon as he wakes up, his mind hazy and distorted by half-remembered dreams. It’s still dark outside. Maybe he’s been asleep a few hours; maybe he’s already slept through the day. He doesn’t know. But he does recognize the feeling in the air. There are a thousand eyes in every atom, all waiting for his next move. 

He’s out of bed and slipping out the door before he can think.

Nights like this, they’re eerie. The streetlights flicker as he passes beneath them. Gerard lights up a cigarette, inhaling the smoke and keeping his head down. He could look over his shoulder, but he’s not sure he wants to see what’s behind him. There’s got to be something.

He walks faster. The sound of his footsteps is quieter than it should be. The shadows shift around him, dark shapes melting from one form to the next, but they never stop long enough for him to get a good look. His hands might be shaking. He can’t really tell. All he can focus on is the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat, too loud, and his footsteps, too soft.

Gerard doesn’t know where he’s going. He never really does. He just lets his feet carry him, dancing around the shadows, but not touching, never touching. If they want to touch him, they will. He shakes his head to clear some of the fuzziness from his mind. It doesn’t work. He didn’t expect it to.

He blinks, and he’s standing outside the club. 

It’s always the same one. Neon lights illuminate the windows, and he can see movement inside. If he listens hard, he can almost hear the music; synths and bass vibrating deep in his bones. He tried to find the place in daylight, once, but it was impossible. The streets didn’t look the same. He’d wandered in circles for hours, but never came close to what he was looking for.

Now, though, he knocks on the door, and it glides open in an instant.

Gerard’s vision swims as he makes his way through the crowd. There’s a girl dancing up on a stage, with bright pink and purple lights flashing off her skin, but the faces of the people swarming the floor are dark. He can’t make out anything but the barest flash of teeth, or the pits where eyes should be. They part easily for him, forming a path. He wonders, distantly, where he’s going this time. 

He blinks again, and he’s in the bathroom, staring at his own reflection. The blue lights make him look even paler. Outside, someone - something? - bangs on the door, and it rattles on its hinges. Gerard ignores it, tilting his head slightly, watching the shadows play off the angles of his face. The world is getting sharper. The blurriness fades away, bringing every flaw and imperfection into focus.

He would call it surreal, but that would be laughable. An understatement, an overstatement, whatever word one might use; but nowhere near the truth.

He leans on the counter. It’s solid beneath his hands, and cold, too, just biting enough to keep him grounded. The door rattles again. He’s suddenly aware of the fact that he hasn’t looked away from his reflection once, and that’s probably a good thing - he can hear something breathing in the corner.

Gerard opens the door. 

The crowd moves like a living entity. Everyone talks and laughs, but their individual voices all solidify into one endless hum, running unbroken beneath the music. The girl onstage twists her arms in a way that should break her bones, but doesn’t. Gerard takes a moment to watch her dance, as fluid and ethereal as the night itself, running her hands through her inky-black hair. The lights shine down on her features, yet she’s somehow as faceless as everyone else.

Gerard looks away. He has a purpose here; it wouldn’t do to forget that.

It doesn’t take long to find him. Gerard blinks, and he’s right there, leaning against a wall with his hands in his pockets. He’s looking back at Gerard, smirking. He’s probably been looking for a while. Waiting for Gerard to notice.

Gerard gravitates straight to him, and before he knows it, they’re face to face. 

Frank fits perfectly into the shape of Gerard’s body, and he’s got one hand in Gerard’s back pocket, the other reaching up to steal Gerard’s cigarette and take a drag. “What took you so long?” he asks, still smirking. He keeps the cigarette between his teeth, and Gerard knows he’s not getting it back.

“I got lost,” he says with a shrug.

“You’re always lost. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” Frank’s eyes gleam under the lights. Gerard can’t tell what color they are. He can’t tell if they’re colored at all. 

In an instant, Frank’s cigarette has burned down to the filter. It glows cherry red until he flicks it aside, running his fingers along Gerard’s jaw. “Well?” he asks. “You’re the one who came here. You’re looking for something, hm?”

“You tell me,” Gerard says. He knows what he wants, and he knows Frank wants it, too. But he’s not going to make the first move. That’s not how it works.

Frank kisses him first. 

He tastes of ash and nicotine and something else Gerard can’t quite place, a bitter sting that almost resembles alcohol, but not quite. It makes Gerard’s mouth go numb. All the same, he can’t help kissing back, pulling Frank closer into him. He blinks, and they’re against the wall. Frank’s got bite marks running up the side of his neck. He grins, lazy and seductive, and he hooks his fingers into Gerard’s belt loops.

“Don’t think,” he whispers in Gerard’s ear. 

Gerard doesn’t. 

He tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair, bites his lower lip, and it’s gentle and furious all at once, caught somewhere between a clandestine encounter and a lover’s touch. Frank grinds against his thigh, panting. He’s made of contradictions, of abstractions, but Gerard still knows him well enough to know what he wants, how he wants it, when it makes him weak. 

He blinks, and Frank’s jacket has been tossed aside. A strip of his stomach is visible where his t-shirt is rucked up. Lines of ink run across it, and Gerard wonders idly what the shapes form. It’s probably nothing. It’s probably something. It’s probably everything.

He blinks, and the music echoes between his ears, drowning out all conscious thought. Frank’s mouth is hot on his neck. His fingers dig into Gerard’s hips. Gerard is buzzing with sensation, sound and touch and taste until he thinks his mind might just overload, bursting at the seams. 

It’s heaven, and it’s hell, and reality goes blurry at the edges, but Gerard can’t get enough.

Too soon, Frank bites his lip and sighs. “You’re leaving,” he says, and that’s disappointment in his voice, Gerard knows it is.

“No, I’m not. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, but Frank frowns.

“You are.” He leans in once more to mouth at Gerard’s throat. “You should stay sometime,” he murmurs.

“Sometime,” Gerard echoes. His tongue feels too heavy, like lead. He’s not sure how to stay. He’s not sure how to leave.

But he knows he wants here, this moment, forever.

“You’ll figure it out, eventually,” says Frank. “When you’re ready. Until then…”

He pulls Gerard in close, so his breath ghosts over Gerard’s lips, and whispers, “Sleep.”

Gerard wakes up.

He reaches for the memories that he knows he won’t find, and sighs. He can still feel Frank’s hands on him, but even the name is slipping away; the face, long forgotten. It’ll come back. But until then, he’s not sure what it is he’s trying to remember.

Gerard sits up, looks at the clock, and waits for nightfall.


End file.
